Letras
Your majesty, I have a confession
My secret I must now betray
I was not a born fool
It took work to get this way
When I was a lad I was gloomy and sad
As I was from the day I was born
When other lads giggled and gurgled and wiggled
I proudly was loudly forlorn
My friends and my family looked at me clamorly
Thought there was something amiss
When others found various antics hilarious
All I could manage was this
My father he shouted, "He needs to be clouted
His teeth on a wreath I'll hand him!"
My mother she cried as she rushed to my side
"You're a brute and you don't understand him!"
So they sent for a witch with a terrible twitch
To ask how my future impressed her
She took one look at me and cried
"He? What else can he be but a jester?
A jester, a jester? A funny idea, a jester!
No butcher, no baker, no candlestick maker
And me with the look of a fine undertaker impressed her
As a jester!"
Now where could I learn any comical turn
That was not in a book on the shelf?
No teacher to take me to mold me and make me
A merry man, fool or an elf
But I'm proud to recall that in no time at all
With no other recourses but my own resources
With firm application and determination
I made a fool of myself!
I bought a little gun and I learned to shoot
I bought a little horn and I learned to toot
And I can shoot and toot, ain't I cute?
I started to travel to try to unravel
My mind and to find a new chance
When I got to Spain it was suddenly plain
That the field that appealed was the dance
The Spanish were clannish but I wouldn't vanish
I learned every step they had planned
The first step of all isn't hard to recall
'Cause the first step of all is to stand
And stand, and stand, and stand, and stand, and stand
They sometimes stand this way for days
Then they get very mad at the floor
And start to stamp on it
After all of my practice
The terrible fact is
I made a fool of myself
I sadly decided that dancing as I did
To sing was the thing that was surer
I found me a teacher, a crotchety creature
Who used to sing "Holler A-Currah"
She twisted my chin, pushed my diaphragm in
With a poker she vokalized me
When she said it was best that I throw out my chest
You may gather that rather surprised me
I was on solid ground 'till I suddenly found
That in Venice I was to appear
The gala locale was a choppy canal
And me, a high sea gondolier
I nervously perched as the gondola lurched
Before the king's palazzo
As I started my song
My voice it was strong
But my stomach I fear was not so
O sole mio!
O sole!
Help!
Help!
When I fell overboard, how his majesty roared
And before a siesta he made me his jester
And I found out soon that to be a buffoon
Was a serious thing as a rule
For a jester's chief employment
Is to kill himself for your enjoyment
And a jester unemployed is nobody's fool